


all your perfect imperfections

by sweetiejelly



Category: Glee
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-25 22:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1664261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetiejelly/pseuds/sweetiejelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine POV. Just a few of the ways that Kurt's perfectly imperfect. Title's from "All of me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	all your perfect imperfections

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moongirl24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moongirl24/gifts).



> Written for Lene's birthday. I missed it last year and wanted to make up for it a bit this year, though this is a bit short due to the fact that I'm still climbing out of my writer's block recently. Still, I hope you like and that the boys make you smile a bit. Happy, happy birthday, dear Lene! ♥

Blaine knows all about nights over-promised, where the beat of the dance is drowned by the beat of fists, knows this deep in the tender reaches of his ribs. 

When he sees Kurt, face a modern art piece, lying still on a hospital bed, Blaine's heartbeat goes haywire. He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out, a swell of pride (and worry (and pride)) ballooning in his chest. This is Kurt, so full of courage, who charges, all compassion and fury, _into_ the fray. 

Many years ago, Blaine had run the other way, to safety. So he knows, perhaps more than most, just what Kurt has done. Gently, he tucks his head into the crook of Kurt's neck the way they're used to now, watching movies, thumbing through issues of _Vogue_ , talking, sleeping, being. 

_I love you,_ Blaine thinks as he runs his fingers lightly between the violent reds and the aging purples. _I love you._

\--- 

Pigeons are loud and a little vacant, the way they peck at anything, at nothing. It fits with Blaine's headspace anyhow, watching them, feeling the echo where his heart dangles. 

He really screwed up this time. A lie and not only that, but a lie a _day_. All because he wasn't brave enough to tell the truth (not everyone admires you as I do, as they _should_ ). Gurgle, gurgle goes his heart. Which means in pigeon, in anything: oh no, _oh no_. 

But Kurt - Kurt always zigs when least expected. Blaine apologizes and Kurt - Kurt forgives, chooses to trust him. Blaine doesn't think he has ever loved anyone more. He clings on tight, tucking his face by Kurt's where it belongs. From this vantage point, the world coos a different song: we're a team now. We're a team always. You jump (me), I jump (you)! 

\--- 

That once when they got together when they weren't together, when it was just a bit wrong on top of all the right, they got it on in a hotel room. Ties were tugged off and hands were tugged on. Skin wrapped everywhere. Blaine remembers the night vividly. The way Kurt kissed him was telling. It wasn't a my-body-missed-your-body, you jerk. It was more a my-heart-missed-your-heart, you jerk. 

For a couple of hours, they had the space all to themselves, privacy glowing in the low light of a lamp reflected in the mirror. 

It's like that now. Rachel's moved out and Blaine's moved back in. This cavernous echo-y loft is all their own. Some nights they dance around like goofs, singing and harmonizing and rearranging all their kitchen chairs. Some nights they reserve for Kleenex and popcorn, old romantic movies spinning their magic till everything's snuggle-warm and salty-sweet. And it _so_ doesn't matter when they forget to close the privacy curtain around their bed. They hide no secret from the moonlight, none from the sun. 

\--- 

Blueberry pancakes still make an appearance. Occasionally. But most mornings the moaning wraps not around a spoon but spoons the air above their sheets. 

\--- 

This late spring shower pours down in sheets after sheets, relentless. And Blaine thinks it's maybe a little ridiculous how angry he could get at an inanimate object. But he is really, _really_ mad. 

At monkey bars. Stupid, metal contraptions that bruised Kurt earlier today in sixteen distinct spots along his back and legs. They're lilting in pattern, almost like a wind chime, and Blaine rages even as he ices and kisses over them. 

"Blaine!" Kurt giggles as Blaine drags his nose over the back of a knee. The chime of Kurt's laugh eases (a tad) the knot in Blaine's throat. At least the new routine is brilliant (save the fall). "Maybe skip-" 

"The best part?"

"No, but-"

"I'll get it."

"I know you will." And the thing is, Blaine does. Kurt takes risks but not undue risks, and it makes Blaine fall a little more in love with him each time.

Deliberately, he kisses over the same spot again. Then a third kiss. This time, even the thunder outside their window growls a little softer. 

\--- 

"It'll be okay." 

They say this to each other a lot. _People_ say this to each other a lot, sometimes without any thought and sometimes with all their hope-in-heart. Still, it's a phrase that's laid out again and again like an over-ironed shirt. 

It tends to fall a bit stiff. 

Out of Kurt's mouth, however, Blaine tends to believe it. So, their flight home for their _wedding_ is delayed for at least another three hours. 

"No regrets." Kurt squeezes his hand. And Blaine has to squeeze back. No, he cannot regret taking on this gig that kept them until the last second. 

"No regrets. I just - Cooper is freaking me out with his texts!" 

Kurt just arches a brow at him. "Cooper," he says, like that explains it all. Blaine rolls his eyes but puts away his phone, relaxes a fraction. It’s true. Cooper isn't a good yardstick. His brother is a boy who cries wolf (and then tap dances it too for good measure). Cooper can make _everything_ out to be dire as fire. 

"I love you." Blaine leans over and kisses Kurt sweetly. Even in a busy airport like LaGuardia, Kurt makes the world feel cozier, kinder, better. 

"I love you, too." Kurt's expression softens. "Now stop trying to make me smile. There's going to be cameras around the rest of the day and I don't want to overexert the muscles in my cheeks and end up looking ridiculous!" 

Blaine lays his head on Kurt's shoulder. "You never look ridiculous. Unless you mean ridiculously handsome." 

"I'm serious, Blaine! _Stop_." 

Blaine beams. He could hear the happiness in Kurt's voice like an echo of his own. This is them _not_ freaking out together. 

\--- 

They are late to their own wedding. But it’s okay. Kurt hasn’t turned thirty yet. Blaine hasn’t had a heart attack. 

\--- 

"Remember the first time we sat together on a bed? And I thought I looked as sexy as a baby penguin?" 

Blaine tangles his fingers in Kurt's over Kurt's shoulders. Both of them are staring back at each other in the mirror, smiles on their faces, a little tired because _families_ , especially because _Cooper_ (and then Sam and that incident with the water fountain), but still ridiculously happy. It's their wedding night. 

"We practiced smoldering faces and I thought you were the cutest boy I've ever met." 

Kurt's eyes light up, pleased. "Really?" 

"Really. You still are. But also the bravest and the kindest and the most talented." He stops to place kisses along Kurt's temple, Kurt's cheek. 

"Hmmm," Kurt leans back into him, trusting him to catch him, trusting him in everything. "Continue." 

Blaine huffs out a laugh and tugs Kurt to his feet. "And," he turns Kurt around and steals a peck, "I'm still so in love with you. _More_." 

The song comes to them both at once, line by flirty line. 

_You think I'm pretty without any makeup on._  
 _You think I'm funny when I get the punchline wrong..._

They don't fall to bed before the end of the song, but that's only because they find an ottoman. 

(And then a table.) 

They find each other all over again, marks standing out stark and proud like badges, perfectly imperfect. 


End file.
